


And All Was Well

by malixa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Family Fluff, First Christmas, Fluff, Insecurity (light), M/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weasley Family, Weasley Jumpers, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 20:32:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13256076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malixa/pseuds/malixa
Summary: Harry brushes a finger over the glossy surface of the picture, across Draco’s face and their entwined fingers where they’re gathered on Draco’s thigh. Over Draco’s baby bump, where it’s still visible under the Christmas jumper he’s wearing.Harry and Draco attend the annual Weasley Christmas Party.





	And All Was Well

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is my first work in this fandom (be kind to me, please!). I apologize for any Americanisms in the text, as I’m neither American nor British, or in fact a native speaker at all, there is bound to be some mixing of the two, sorry! Please let me know if you spot any. I hope you enjoy!

“Draco!”

When there’s no answer from upstairs, Harry sighs deeply. After a moment, he peels himself off the front hallway door and trudges up to the second floor. The sight of Draco standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom, a pinched expression on his face makes all his impatience evaporate. He watches as Draco runs his fingers through his hair, then as he messes it up again before he attempts to get it to lie flat again. With a sigh Draco gives up and his eyes catch on something else instead, something that makes his mouth curl downwards with dissatisfaction.

Harry watches as Draco lays a hand on the swell of his stomach, twisting to get the side view of himself. He’s only six month along, but the bump looks especially pronounced on his thin frame. Harry hates how self-conscious Draco has become because of it. Draco adjusts his shirt, then pops open a button at the collar, as if that could possibly distract anyone from the rather obvious bun-in-the-oven situation. Harry stays put for a moment longer, only approaching when he realizes that Draco is about five seconds away from throwing another fit about having to go to the Weasley’s Christmas party.

Draco catches sight of Harry in the mirror and immediately adopts a haughty look that looks slightly ridiculous on him these days. It’s just that Draco…well, he looks soft like this. His face is a little fuller than before the pregnancy and is stomach is a lot fuller. His bum has rounded out too, but Harry hasn’t dared to point that out to him yet. He’s decided it’s better to take full advantage of the situation and enjoy it for as long as it lasts instead. Gently, he slides his arms under Draco’s and cradles the bump, smiling when he feels the flickers of movements under his hands.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, Potter.”

 _Potter_. That’s never a good sign. At least it never is unless it’s accompanied by a reluctantly fond smile, which it’s not at the moment.

“Are you ready to go? We’re late, but I think we’ll make it in good time if we’re quick about it.”

Draco stays quiet, passive-aggressively ignoring Harry as if he’s not wrapped around him like a limpet. Choosing the option of approaching this gently again, Harry settles his chin on Draco’s shoulder and waits him out.

“It’s just so bloody obvious.” Draco says finally, looking down at himself.

“Sorry to tell you this, love, but it was obvious two months ago.”

Draco snorts, a smidgen of amusement making his mouth curl upwards.

“You’re not sorry in the slightest.”

“No, I’m not.” Harry admits, smiling smugly into Draco’s neck. He leans his body into Draco’s and presses his hips against his arse, keeping his hands on Draco’s stomach. It takes embarrassingly little to get him going these days. Coming home from work and finding Draco already in bed, wearing nothing but an oversize shirt and pants is the best part of his day. The snoring doesn’t even turn him off in the slightest.

“They already know, Draco. What does it matter if they can see?”

“It just does.” Draco says.

“Do want to stay home?” Draco gives him a flat look in the mirror.

“As if I’m going to make you stay here by saying yes to that question. God forbid that we don’t spend every second attached at the hip, Molly would think I was leaving you.” “

Is that a no then?” Harry asks.

Draco rolls his eyes at him, but grabs his hand and leads him out of the bedroom. He gets dressed in his new cloak, which obscures the bump, but there’s no way of covering it up completely. By now, Draco is too far along in his pregnancy to Floo or Apparate, which means that Sirius’ motorbike is the only option. It makes Draco nauseous, but so does everything else these days. Today, Harry came prepared. He’s stashed the glove compartment with ginger nuts, which is one of the two things that seem to help Draco’s nausea.

When they land in the Weasleys backyard, windswept and chilled, Molly is already out on the front steps. She’s wearing an apron and oven mitts, her hair even a bigger mess than usual. She hugs them both, though the hug she gives Draco is shorter and  awkward in comparison to the one she gives Harry.

“Harry, have you gotten taller?” She says, reaching up to pat down his hair. “Oh, I’m sure you haven’t. I’ve just started shrinking, haven’t I? I swear, I get shorter every day. But you,” She says, gesturing to Draco and his stomach. “You get bigger every time I see you!”

“Pregnant people tend to do that.” Draco tells her, ignoring the look Harry sends his way.

“Right.” Molly says. “Well, you look great.”

Harry has to agree with her. Despite the nausea, pregnancy suits Draco. There’s a nice flush to his cheeks and he has that glow that Harry had been sure was not actually a real thing.

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley.”

“Molly, dear.” She chides gently, for what must be the hundredth time.

Draco nods and leans into Harry’s side, who puts his arm around him to pull him closer.

“Oh, sorry! You must be cold. I didn’t mean to keep you out here all evening. Come on, come on in.”

She ushers them into the heat and bustle of the house, herding them past what seems to be at least ten red headed children. The living room is warm with the crackle of the fireplace and just as loud and boisterous as Draco had feared. The Weasleys and their respective wives and husbands are all gathered on various couches and chairs, each and everyone wearing horrendous Christmas jumpers. They all stop talking the second Draco and Harry step into the room and it’s painfully quiet for a few long seconds. It’s quite clear that no one knows what to do with themselves.

“So,” Hermione says. “Sweets anyone?”

It’s a well-known fact Hermione can’t cook or bake to save her life. Nevertheless, the whole living room shudders into life and everyone accepts a piece, obviously regretting it straight afterwards. Alcohol is the thing they need, Draco thinks longingly. What he wouldn’t do for a drink right about now. He looks down at the bump and rubs a hand over his side, digging his fingers into the sore muscles.

“Is your back bothering you again?” Harry asks, placing a hand on Draco’s back where it usually aches the most.

“Oh!” Molly says, making Draco jump.“Make some room, will you.” She hisses, physically pressing Ron and George further up the couch to free a cushion.

Harry shoots Draco an amused look as Molly harasses her children into taking up less space on the couch, ignoring their protests.

“He’s pregnant you inconsiderate fools.” She mutters. “I’m sure I raised you to have better than manners than this. Poor thing, as wide as a house and you can’t even offer him a seat.”

Draco digs his sharp elbow into Harry’s side when he snickers, but gracefully accepts the offered seat with only an eye roll. He’s sat next to Hermione, who offers him one of the sweets in her tin, which he wisely declines. If he’s trying to avoid nausea, it’s the right choice.

Luckily the awkward silence lifts after that. It’s unavoidable really, in a house as full as this. Fred and George put on some music and Angelina tops off their mugs of spiked eggnog, which does wonders for the atmosphere. By this point in the evening, the children have had their share of sweets and are running around in circles, chasing each other and laughing wildly. In comparison to the celebration Harry and Draco had with Draco’s mother, it’s quite lively. And a lot of fun, Draco has to admit.

He’s in the middle of discussing a new legislation with Hermione, when Molly comes back from the kitchen, a large present in her hands. She steps up in front of him and people quiet down, all eyes on her.

“I know we agreed on presents only for the baby this year.” She says, shooting a look at Harry. “But, I’ve just finished this and well, it’s tradition.”

She places the present on Draco’s lap. Aware of everyone’s eyes on him, Draco pries the ribbon to the side and unwraps the paper gently. Inside, is what looks to be a knitted lump. He pulls it out and reveals a quite frankly hideous knitted jumper. For one, it’s a humongous and second, it’s a vomit inducing orange. The chest is emblazoned with a maroon D, which clashes awfully with the orange wool.

“It’s ghastly.” Draco says, his voice nothing but a mere croak. To his horror he realizes that he’s tearing up, over a jumper for merlin’s sake. Over this jumper, this horrible, eyesore of a jumper. “It’s horrendous.”

“I know.” Molly enthuses. “Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. Harry only gave me a day to finish it! I would have gone with green if I could have, but I was all out of yarn.”

“It’s alright, Molly.” Draco says. “I love it.”

“You do?” She asks, looking astounded.

“Yes.”

“Well, in that case. There’s one more, look beneath it.”

Beneath the atrocious sweater is yet another jumper. It’s midnight blue and softer than a cloud, obviously intended for a very small person. It’s emblazoned with a white, fluffy J. Harry must have told her that they’re planning on naming the baby James.

“It’s lovely, Molly.”

“Marvellous, just marvellous.” She says. “Oh, I need to hug you.” She engulfs him in an embrace, a cloud of her perfume and the scent of cloves enveloping him. For all that she’s a very small woman, she manages to hug all of him, even in all of his current substantialness. She eventually lets him go and gives him a watery smile.

“Well, aren’t you going to put it on?” asks Harry.

Draco’s tempted to throttle him. It’s a nice gesture – the present, but it’s also fucking awful. Again, aware on everyone’s eyes on him, he pulls the sweater on over his shirt. And lo and behold, the ridiculously large sweater fits him perfectly, who would have thought.

“You look dashing.” Harry says.

“Thank you.” Draco answers, giving Harry a flat look.

“Lovely.” Molly enthuses. “And you even match!”

So they do. Harry is wearing a maroon jumper with a white H on it, which is a much better colour combination than orange and maroon. Harry grins at him and puts his arm around Draco’s waist. Usually, Draco doesn’t appreciate public displays of affection, but he allows it now – here, in the Weasley’s home.

“Oh, the picture, dad!” Ginny says from her chair by the fire.

“Right, right. I’ll get my camera, everyone get ready!”

“What?” Draco asks, as everyone starts rearranging the furniture and bustling about.

“Annual Christmas photo.” Harry explains.

Before he’s had the time to protest, Draco has already been squeezed in between Fred and Harry. Mr Weasley returns with the camera and in the matter of seconds, the whole Weasley-clan has gathered on the too small couch with a camera floating in the air in front of them. A child that Draco doesn’t even know the name of gets placed in Harry’s lap and someone starts a countdown.

“Six…five…four.”

Draco feels Harry’s hand closing around his own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Three…two…” Draco squeezes Harry’s hand in return.

“One!” They all yell.

 

∞

 

Three weeks later, a thick letter arrives at their flat. Harry doesn’t even comment when he comes home from work that day and sees the photo, encased in a classy frame, placed in the middle of their collection of photos on the mantle piece. Instead, he smiles as he spots Draco on the far left on the photo. Draco’s smile – albeit small – is genuine and warm. Harry is certain that the lovesick face he’s got on in that photo is the exact same face he’s wearing right now. He brushes a finger over the glossy surface, across Draco’s face and their entwined fingers where they’re gathered on Draco’s thigh. Over Draco's bump, still visible under the Christmas jumper he's wearing. As the picture moves he catches Draco squeezing his hand.

Harry looks for a second longer, then, he goes to settle behind Draco where he’s napping on the couch. He settles his hand over Draco’s stomach, imagining that their little miracle can sense him too and settles down for a kip. All is well.

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to upload this before Christmas, but I simply didn't have the time. I hope some of you are still feeling the Christmas spirit though, I am!


End file.
